


Behind the lights

by Ravendor_Neera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Art, Art student Sirius, Artist Sirius Black, British Sign Language, Deaf Character, Deaf Remus Lupin, Fairy Lights, First Meetings, Getting Together, M/M, Meet-Cute, Photography, Teacher Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravendor_Neera/pseuds/Ravendor_Neera
Summary: On his morning commute to work, Remus always hopes to see the handsome, black-haired stranger that caught his eye.He's used to observing and he's not the type to make a first move but what if his beautiful stranger is?"People can say so much when you know how to look."
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 44
Kudos: 274
Collections: Modern Marauders, Wolfstar Games 2020





	Behind the lights

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt
> 
> " />
> 
> Team Sight

****

**BEHIND THE LIGHTS**

_October_

Remus runs up the stairs and reaches the platform, just as the train is pulling in. He had stopped to take a couple of close ups of the fallen leaves on the street, then lost track of time observing the contrast of colors between the leaves, the concrete and the powder-grey sky of the autumn morning. Flushed from the run, laptop case in one hand and his smallest camera slung over his shoulder, he hurries towards the wagons. As he waits for the train to come to a complete halt, surrounded by the drowsy crowd of the Monday morning peak time, he looks around and lifts slightly on his tiptoes, looking for… There he is, further down the platform: the handsome man of the 7.45 train. Head slightly bent, he is reading a book that he holds with one hand, a thumb with chipped nail polish pushing the spine open. His long, black hair is loosely knotted up around a pair of chopsticks, half of it falling on one side of his face. Luckily it’s the side that is not facing Remus, whose gaze is free to roam over the man’s beautiful profile: the straight nose, the nice cheekbones and the thin lips under the heavy stubble. 

_Beautiful_ . _Hand closed in a bud, moves forward from the mouth and blooms mid-air._

When the doors of the train open, the man lifts his eyes from the book and climbs in the wagon. So does Remus.

They usually take the same train in the morning, so Remus has seen him many times now. More than once they ended up sitting in the same wagon and sometimes their eyes met, and that’s how Remus knows that his are bright, and of an incredible shade of grey. The black haired stranger is not there every day but quite often; Remus reckons he must be around twenty five or twenty six years old, only a couple of years younger than him. He always has a bag with a shoulder strap and often carries a rather large portfolio case. He must be a student in some university in town. 

One day Remus arrives on the platform and the man is already there, sitting on a bench with a paper notebook open in his lap. He’s wearing black, fingerless gloves and judging by the way he moves the pencil, he must be sketching something. By now, Remus is quite sure he’s an artist. The portfolio case supports this theory. Remus, who is used to observing, takes advantage of the man’s concentration to study his features once again. The cold morning air tinges his cheeks red and when he looks up, gazing in the distance, he exhales and the air forms a light, white cloud. 

_Art. Index and middle finger, palm facing signer. Starts in front of the face and moves downwards, wiggling from side to side._

_November_

One cold, misty morning the train has a twenty minute delay. Remus texts the school where he teaches to tell them he’ll be late, then opens his Instagram to pass the time. There’s always some good shot saved to post in his Drive. 

Remus loves photography. It has been a passion of his since he was in his teens; night shots and lights are his favourites but he has an eye for curious details, too, and close ups. Every now and then, he steals glances around the platform and one rewards him: the beautiful stranger suddenly appears running from the stairs onto the platform with a paper mug of coffee in one hand and his case in the other. As soon as he sees the empty tracks, he stops abruptly. One look at the screen above the tracks tells him everything he needs to know. He furrows his brows: the coffee spilled on his gloved hands. Remus recognizes a curse on his lips. He starts looking for a handkerchief in his bag and he finds one but when he looks up, a woman standing nearby has already offered one to the beautiful stranger, who places the cup on the platform bench, removes his gloves and dries his hands. While doing so, he looks around and their gazes cross for a split second before Remus looks away and quickly tucks his packet of kleenex in the bag, feeling his neck flush and hoping the other didn’t see them. He doesn’t dare look again. He takes his phone and pretends to focus on it. When the train finally pulls in he climbs into the carriage, feeling like the greatest idiot of all times. 

Another day his beautiful stranger is with a girl. She is short and soft, with green eyes and long, smooth, hair of a warm shade of ginger. She barely reaches his shoulder and she seems to find delight in poking him in the ribs. Their faces are laughing and their banter must be loud because a few people turn to look at them. They end up sitting in Remus’ same carriage this time. He steals looks from behind his Kindle. They seem close, enough that she snuggles against him, resting her head on his chest, and dozes off. He wraps an arm around her. Remus tells himself that he shouldn’t be surprised; nevertheless, somewhere between his stomach and his brain he feels a little drop of disappointment. After so much time and many glances, he’s come to think of him as _his_ stranger. It’s stupid but he can’t help it.

_Mine. Closed hand held to the chest._

One afternoon, Remus steps out of the carriage, back from a terrible day at work and looking forward to burying himself under his duvet, and he sees them again: his beautiful stranger, the ginger girl and an Indian boy around their age with unruly dark hair and glasses. They are walking towards the exit, chatting and laughing. His stranger has confetti trapped in his hair and he’s holding a party horn between his lips.

‘Congrats, whatever the occasion’, Remus thinks, following them with his gaze.

Right before they disappear down the staircase, the girl kisses the Indian boy. It’s silly but Remus feels relieved, even if he knows he’ll never quite approach the black-haired stranger. It’s not easy for him. What could he possibly say, or write, or sign to a perfect stranger? Too awkward. The last thing he wants is to read pity or compassion on the boy’s face, or find out he’s rude or an asshole. Some things are better if they remain a fantasy, so they can be boundless. 

_Fantasy. Open hand near the temple, draws circles in the air._

Remus knows he’s considered a down-to-earth, sensible person by his acquaintances, but only his closest friends and relatives know about his moony side. He doesn’t just observe people, he loves to imagine what their stories may be from small details and little gestures. People can say so much when you know how to look. This is also the reason why the night and the lights in the dark are his favourite picture subjects. Street lamps, candles, the lit up windows from which you can sneak a peek into people’s lives and homes, the moon and the stars. There are countless possibilities behind any light in the dark, so many stories…So he’s often lost in thoughts, wondering about these things and this earned him the nickname _Moony_. He’s quite fond of it.

The next time Remus sees him, he is already sitting in the carriage seat, half sprawled with his legs stretched in the corridor, head bent back to rest on the window. Remus goes to sit on the opposite side, so he can keep stealing subtle glances. The man has got paint on his face and on his hands. Due to the general inability of railway companies to regulate the temperature inside their trains in any season whatsoever, it’s incredibly hot in the carriage and his stranger has taken off his black parka, now folded on his knees. He is wearing a rainbow t-shirt over a long sleeved black one. On the rainbow shirt there’s the phrase ‘ _Siriusly Queer’_ written in an elegant hand writing. Remus ponders a little on the word ‘siriusly’ and the spelling error, but _Queer_ he knows well.

_A hand describing a downward spiral, from the neck to the chest, like a cascade of ringlets._

He suddenly feels quite self-conscious about the rainbow wristband he has tied to the zip of his computer case and the bi-pride pins he has pinned on it. When his stop is near, the boy stretches a bit and stands up. Parka hanging from his arm, he adjusts his hair back in a new knot, not any tighter than the previous one. To hold it, a paint brush. He moves to the door as the train slows down and he looks directly at Remus’ face for a brief but clear moment, then his gaze trails down to the wristband Remus is fidgeting with and back up to his face and he smiles. It’s a small, almost private smile, but Remus sees it and before he can fully realise, his own lips curl up just enough to be smiling back, completely freaking out inside. It lasts only a moment, then the doors are open, the crowd is spilling out and his beautiful stranger is gone with it.

_December_

The train is packed. It will be Christmas in a few days and people take up double their usual space with their thick coats and bags of presents in addition to their usual bags and cases. Remus is sitting near the door and has been eyeing his beautiful stranger from behind his Kindle for some time now. Today he is quite the sight, really. He’s wearing his usual long, battered black parka and peeking from under it Remus can see one of those terrible, thick, Christmas jumpers with snowflakes, Christmas tree patterns and reindeers on the front. He’s also wearing a rainbow scarf that looks hand-knit by not exactly skilled hands. To top it all off, the real treat: a string of small, white fairy lights nicely arranged around his head as a crown. It’s the kind of fairy lights you can see as decoration for tables and vases in fancy home catalogues and it’s lit up. He must have the switch in his pocket. Remus is amused by the boy’s complete ease. Some people look at him and smile or stifle a laugh and he looks up from the paper he is sketching and smiles amiably back. He wonders where he’s going dressed up like that, maybe a party, even if it’s a weekday and it’s morning. Anyway, if there’s one thing he’s now quite sure of, it’s that his beautiful stranger is one of a kind. Remus observes him as he traces something on his notebook with a carbon pencil, leaning on one of the carriage’s poles. Under the bright lights of the train the delicate effect of the light beads is lost but Remus thinks he’d make a great shot in a dark room or out in the night… He exhales and just then he sees the other man is looking at him. He holds his gaze for a moment then moves it back down to the paper, the pencil moving swiftly. After a brief time, he does that again. A jolt of the train and the man grimaces, then looks at Remus and smiles again. Remus is completely at a loss. What is happening? He feels his palms starting to sweat. The other man pushes back up to a straight position, rips the page off the notebook and folds it in half. Remus knows he gets off at the next stop. The tall stranger walks right to him, as the train starts to slow down. This can’t be happening. The man stops in front of Remus, smiling, and offers him the folded paper. Remus stares at the paper for a moment, perplexed, then he takes it from the other man’s hands. He looks back up at him, eyes wide. The man is saying something. _Damn, no, not now. Not like that._ He’s lost the beginning of the sentence, he’s silently freaking out and just can’t read lips right now… Remus smiles, apologetic. He mouths the word and his fist draws circles around his chest: ‘Sorry _’_. 

He touches his ear with his fingers and shakes his head. _Deaf._

Understanding dawns on the man's face. There it is, the look Remus honestly would have avoided seeing in his beautiful stranger’s eyes: sorrow, compassion, maybe even disappointment, who knows. Now it’s the other man’s turn to make an apologetic gesture, clearly embarrassed. The train has stopped by now and people are moving out. He looks at the door, says something, Remus catches only ‘next time’ on his lips. He waves and rushes out, the doors almost closing on him. 

Sad and frustrated, Remus sighs and rests his head on the window behind him, holding the piece of paper. A similar scene has happened countless times before, but in none of those times Remus had spent months harbouring a silly crush on the hearing person in front of him, so it never bothered him that much. Nor should it now, he’s got nothing to blame himself for. With another sigh, he sits up and tries to shake the frustration away. There will be other chances to actually talk. He’s still holding the paper, so he opens it and gasps in surprise: it’s a sketch of himself, from his chest up, just as he is now, sitting there: the coat with buttons, the scarf and the Kindle. In the picture he’s focused on it, reading. The pencil lines are a bit unsteady because of the train movement and the style is half realistic. The hand is clearly skilled and the resemblance is stunning, even if it’s just simple lines of pencil. It’s him without any doubt. In the bottom right corner, the man scribbled in an artistic, quite peculiar handwriting:

_To the beautiful familiar stranger of the morning commute, Merry Xmas. SB_.

Remus’ heart skips a beat. He wrote ‘ _beautiful_ ’, and the ‘ _familiar stranger_ ’ fills Remus with warmth. And the signature _SB_ … He wonders what his name may be. Perhaps he told him while he wasn’t looking. He folds the paper and puts it in his pocket. He wishes to have a chance to find it out soon, thank him and maybe talk, in any way. 

But the next day there’s no sign of him on the platform and neither on the following one, nor for any of the few working days left before the Christmas break. Remus knows it must have been embarrassing for him, but he hopes the other is not trying to avoid him by changing commute time. Maybe he’s just off for the holidays and doesn’t need to take the train for now. 

He spends Christmas with his family and for New Year’s there’s the usual dinner at Peter’s place with Marlene, Dorcas and Mary. 

-YOU WORRY TOO MUCH. Peter signs as they watch the fireworks, all crowding on the balcony. Remus is in charge of pictures, as usual. Fireworks are his ideal subjects: trails of light bursting on the black sky. He could watch them for hours.

-MAYBE HE AWAY FOR HOLIDAYS. Offers Peter.

-RIGHT, MAYBE. Remus sighs and Peter raises a sparkling wine glass, smiling, and reaches to touch his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Remus smiles back.

-HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Looking at the giant, colorful flowers blooming above their heads, Remus thinks about the grey-eyed man and his crown of fairy lights. He hopes he’s having a good time, wherever he is. 

_January_

It is not before the second week of January that Remus sees _SB_ again. He’s sitting on the platform bench and typing the caption to his latest Instagram post, when someone taps gently on his shoulder. He looks up and there he is, smiling and waving. The cold morning air gives his eyes an incredible, steely shade but there’s none of coldness that is usually associated with that color. They are cheery and hopeful. Remus waves back and, to his surprise, the other sits beside him on the bench, opens his notebook and holds it for Remus to read. 

_I’m really sorry for last time. I didn’t know you are Deaf. I feel quite a fool._

_I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time and I thought that was a nice idea to introduce ourselves but it didn’t go as I planned and I just panicked and then I had to go and well, I’m an idiot. Please forgive me. I wanted to make it up the next time I saw you but then I got sick before Christmas and spent most of the holidays tucked inside. Guess nothing really ever goes how you plan it, right? But I did research and put all the time I had on my hands to good use learning a bit of BSL._

Remus looks up, amused and softened by the spontaneity that transpires from the note and the notion of him learning the British Sign Language and in that moment the other man starts signing; slowly, a little uncertain, but clearly.

-MY NAME S-I-R-I-U-S BLACK. YOUR NAME WHAT?

Remus smiles his largest smile. _Sirius_ … Of course his name had to be one of a kind, too, and for the surname he used the sign for the colour. 

_Black. A closed fist brushing down along the cheek._

-MY NAME R-E-M-U-S L-U-P-I-N. NICE MEET YOU. 

They shake hands and Sirius signs again. 

-YOUR CHRISTMAS GOOD? 

-YES, MY CHRISTMAS GOOD. YOUR DRAWING BEAUTIFUL. THANK YOU. 

But Sirius looks lost now. 

-SORRY SIGN LITTLE. WRITE?

He offers him his notebook and a pencil. Remus nods and takes the pencil. 

**I had a good Xmas and your drawing is beautiful! Thank you so much, I love it. And it’s nice of you to try to learn BSL. Keep going!**

He gives Sirius thumbs up and he smiles and scribbles in reply.

_I’m glad you like it! And my signing is still very bad but I’ll practice…_

There’s a stretch of silence in which Sirius tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, looking down for a moment. Then he faces him and signs again.

-MAYBE…. YOU ME GO OUT SOMETIME? WANT?

Remus stares at him, completely puzzled. Whatever idea Sirius might have had when he gave him the drawing, Remus thought finding out he is Deaf had changed it all. It’s not easy for hearing people; they usually see Deafness as a problem to be fixed, which, at length, becomes an issue because to most Deaf people it is just not, this is who they are, they are fine. But Sirius didn’t back down, so he probably shouldn’t either. Besides, it’s just one date… 

-SORRY SORRY YOU DON’T WANT -ME OK…

Sirius is signing, flustered. He starts scribbling on the notebook but Remus places one hand on his and when he looks up he nods. ‘OK’, he mouths, then he takes the pencil from Sirius’ hands and writes:

**When?**

They go out on a Saturday afternoon for a cup of hot chocolate in a cosy cafè in their neighborhood and they spend the afternoon talking in a combination of signs and written words. Remus is glad to feel at ease with him. He learns that he had guessed right, Sirius is indeed a Fine Arts student and he shares a flat with the Indian boy, James, and James’ girlfriend, Lily. Sirius signs ' _brother'_ for James. 

_The two fists rubbing against each other._

Sirius is fun, enthusiastic and so genuine Remus almost doesn't need him to sign or tell how he feels about things. Everything in him speaks of kindness.

_Somewhere in time_

They have another date, and another, and several more. Whenever they meet up for the morning commute, Remus feels warmth in his stomach at the thought that only a few weeks back Sirius was ‘his beautiful stranger’. They exchange numbers and start texting but every time they meet Sirius is a little more confident with Sign Language, showing that he is really committed to learning it. Remus knows that communicating with him is a slow matter, an investment of time and effort, but Sirius doesn’t seem to resent their slow paced conversations. Besides his constant progress with signs, he really takes time to patiently write down what he wants to say in his notebook, filling pages with that handwriting that is a work of art on its own. Sometimes Sirius sketches a quick comic version of himself and fills a balloon with what he wants to say, then he prepares a comic version of Remus and leaves a blank balloon for him to fill, which Remus finds so fun he starts to draw himself, too, with comical and, to his own judgement, terrible results, all for Sirius’ amusement.

One day Remus tells Sirius about name signs, about how they are a traditional part of Deaf culture and how they are mutually agreed between a person and their friends and community. He tells him about his name sign, _Moony_ , the sign of _moon_ and the fingerspell for Y, and the reason behind it. Sirius immediately takes this in and their comics selves become a crescent moon and a star, sometimes drawn with eyes and a mouth. 

_Moon. Index and thumb fingers tracing a crescent moon and closing in a pinch._

Every time Remus tells him about his work, the moon gets a little, square professor hat with a tassel and sometimes Sirius’ star holds a paint brush and Sirius draws actual comics of his day in front of him, with side commentary, all while stealing glances at Remus, who cranes over the paper to read and laughs softly. Remus loves all that. 

-LOVE YOUR LAUGH. Sirius signed once. Remus' heart grew twice its size.

He is grateful that Sirius never asks him to speak. They had a conversation about that once. He can speak but he does so on very rare occasions, because he is not entirely comfortable with it. Remus explained to Sirius that not all Deaf people have the same relationship with sounds. Some can hear a little and can speak easily, others are not comfortable with it, even if they can. Having had access to sounds, even if just for a while, makes it easier for Deaf people to speak and read, which shouldn’t be taken for granted. Remus wasn’t born deaf and that helped him keep his English and his reading and speaking. His friend Peter instead, was born Deaf and never had access to sounds. He is completely non-verbal and he is not entirely comfortable with reading, either, because English is a second language for him. It took a while to sign and write all this but in the end Sirius nodded, thoughtful, then scribbled:

_I keep learning things with you. Thank you._

In reply to that, Remus quickly sketched his crescent moon with the professor hat and pointed at it with a smug grin. Sirius leaned in and kissed him. 

_Kiss. Both hands closed in a bud, the tips of the fingers touching each other._

Sirius’ kisses are gentle, slow and deep, like he wants to savour every second and he has all the time in the world for it, every time. When the kiss is over, before leaning away, he always brushes his nose to Remus’, briefly. 

With the weather slowly improving their dates at the café turn into strolls in the park, and Remus loves how Sirius likes to hold his hand and gently rubs a thumb over the back of it to catch his attention before signing, always looking at him in the eyes. 

Things are going so well Remus gives Sirius the name sign of _Star_. It’s simple, even obvious, but as fitting and endearing as no other to Remus. 

_Star. One hand opening wide and fingers wiggling._

They start to hang out at Sirius’ place and he meets James and Lily. They are incredibly welcoming and warm people and they do all they can to make Remus feel at ease. They learnt the basics of Sign Language and when they don’t know the signs, they carefully mouth the words or write. Remus gifts both of them a sign name: ‘ _d_ _eer_ ’ for James because it’s his favourite animal and he has a large tattoo of one on his arm, and the sign for ‘ _flower_ ’ plus the letter L for Lily. In Sirius’ comics they start to appear as their sign namesakes. He finds out Lily has been a follower of his on Instagram for some time since before they met and she shares his passion for photography. They can go on for hours discussing pictures and techniques and they start to go out on picture trips around the city, every time they can arrange. Then Sirius meets Remus’ friends and one sunny day of spring they all meet up for a picnic in the park: Peter, Marl and Dorcas and Sirius with James and Lily. It’s awkward but it warms Remus’s heart beyond words to see how they get along. 

But Remus’ favourite moments are those they spend at his flat, a small place with wooden floorboards at the top of an old Victorian building. The lazy afternoons they spend there stretch into evenings and, more and more often, into nights together. From his bed near the bay-window he can see the light change outside as they lie in bed and watch movies or read side by side. He watches Sirius draw; they have long conversations with signs or writing. They make love, and that’s a drop of time that stretches to blurred borders, tenderness whispered with looks and pleasure breathed out through their hands and caresses. Remus especially loves it when it rains, because the light becomes unreliable and the time really doesn’t exist anymore. It’s all theirs. 

During one of these timeless afternoons Remus takes pictures of Sirius with the fairy lights. In the dark room Sirius lets Remus drape the string of light beads around his bare shoulders and head and go wild with the camera. Remus adjusts him for a few poses but mostly lets him do whatever he wants and Sirius, like the work of art he is, is completely comfortable in front of the lens. Remus can tell he is having fun and the pictures turn out to be among Remus’ favourites. They are so good he has a couple printed out and framed and he hangs the largest one over his bed. 

-MY SKY WITH STARS. He signs for Sirius, pointing at the picture.

-YOU MAKE WISH. Sirius replies. 

Remus grins, looking at him and Sirius drags him to bed. 

_One summer night_

Remus is sitting in his favourite spot in the bay-window, thinking. Looking around in his flat, Remus feels a deep sense of peace at the signs of Sirius’ presence in his life: the first sketch Sirius gave him before Christmas is on the drawer in his room, other sketches and books are scattered on the floor to Sirius’ side of the bed; there’s a set of watercolors on the kitchen table, a couple of clean t-shirts and briefs piled on a chair, Sirius’ bluetooth speaker near the couch and some CDs he’s brought over to play in Remus’ player when he draws; Remus has always liked how his old flat vibrates when the music is on. There’s the string of fairy lights in a glass jar on the bay-window, where Remus loves to sit and read, and it’s lit up now and casts a low, cosy light in the room. There’s Sirius himself, lying half naked in bed, the sheets draped around his beautiful form. It’s a glorious, heartwarming sight. Far from making him feel like he’s losing contact with reality or fearful of the future, all this gives Remus a sense of confidence, that subtle but clear sensation that this is how things should be; that this is the right and perfect landscape, all the coordinates and landmarks are in the right place, this is it. He couldn’t feel more grounded, he thinks, looking out at the street lamps and the empty road. He’s also quite in love.

He feels a gentle tap on his shoulder and Sirius is there, standing beside him in his briefs only.

-CAN’T SLEEP? He signs, sitting near him on the window sill. 

Remus shakes his head. 

-WHY? 

-DON’T KNOW. SOMETIMES HAPPEN. Remus replies.

\- BAD THOUGHTS?

\- NO, GOOD. I FEEL GOOD. REASON YOU. 

Sirius smiles. The dim light of the string and the street lamp plays with shadows on his face. 

-JUST NOT SLEEPY. Remus adds, calm.

Sirius winks:

\- HAVE SOLUTION. BETTER THAN COUNT SHEEP. 

Remus laughs and whacks him playfully on one shoulder. Then he tries to make a serious face and signs:

-CURIOUS. WHAT?

\- COME BED. WILL SHOW YOU. 

They both laugh and Remus gives him his fondest look. He opens his arms, gesturing for him to come closer. Sirius moves to do that but then he stops and looks at him, thoughtful. 

-STAY CAN? He signs. 

Remus is not sure he understood. 

\- WHAT?

\- HERE STAY CAN? THIS, NOW, WITH YOU. ALWAYS. CAN?

Sirius is asking to stay, like that, always. He’s asking to stay with him. His mind fills with thoughts and feelings and everything of everything, all at once; it could burst out but instead it all merges into a song he remembers from years back, that pops into his mind: “ _This. Here and now. With you_ ” by The Cure. It plays in his head, he remembers the lyrics. Remus smiles and once again opens his arms. This time Sirius goes to sit in the space between Remus’ legs and rests his back and head on his chest. They are both too tall for the windowsill, Sirius in particular, but Remus folds his knees and Sirius rests his feet on the wall. Remus hugs him from behind, squeezing hard and rubbing his cheek to Sirius’. Then he takes a deep breath and softly says:

\- “This, here and now, with you is how ‘Always’ should always be. This. Here and now. With you.”

He feels Sirius hold his breath and clutch at his arms and then he turns to face him, with eyes full of all the mellow shades. By now Remus has spoken to him several times, few sentences when it’s just the two of them, but every time Sirius glows and takes his softly spoken words like rare, precious gems.

\- “It’s a song,” Remus says, sheepish. "But don't make me sing!" He adds, laughing softly. 

Sirius's smile tells everything they still haven't said or signed. He nods and pushes his feet to reach up and kiss him. He rubs their noses together, gives him another starry look and turns to snuggle back against his chest. Remus rests his head on his shoulder and hugs him again. These are the boundless moments he wished for himself and for them, the ones behind the lights. Timeless, possibly endless. Just the two of them in the soft light and thin shade. And there will be more each day to come.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Writing this story has been a great learning opportunity.  
> If you are interested to know more about Deaf Culture and the Sign Language here are some websites and videos I used as research materials. 
> 
> Websites  
> [British Sign Language](https://www.british-sign.co.uk/l)  
> [Community and culture-FAQ](https://www.nad.org)  
> [Article on the importance of Deaf Culture](https://www.healthyhearing.com/report/52285-The-importance-of-deaf-culture)  
> [British Deaf Association](https://bda.org.uk)  
> [BSL Video Dictionary](https://www.signbsl.com)  
> [Quick Queer BSL Dictionary](https://www.globalcitizen.org/en/content/lgbtq-sign-language-jessica-kellgren-fozard/)
> 
> Videos  
> [BSL Learning with Mel](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5H_CO6QGwd9hilVnfujz_w) Lots of videos to learn at a leisurely pace  
> [ Useful quick video tutorials to improve BSL](https://www.youtube.com/user/CommandingHands)  
> [ Jessica Kellgren-Fozard Channel](https://www.youtube.com/user/MissJessicaKH) She's Deaf and queer and an absolute queen. She addresses a lot of different topics.
> 
>   
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/here-is-thegreatmoon)  
> 
> 
> **Mod Note**
> 
> Please vote on this work! [VOTING FORM](https://forms.gle/geipN8Vkpovcqzzx8)


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